


Carrot Over Stick

by Xyriath



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Breeding, Bunny Shiro (Voltron), Come Inflation, Drugged Sex, Extremely Dubious Consent, Intersex Shiro (Voltron), Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Wolf Keith (Voltron), sex slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:09:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: When Shiro gets bunny-napped and presented to the wolf prince as an engagement present, he isn't expecting his new master to take more interest in Shiro than even his fiance.He's not expecting the appeal of the prospect, either.





	Carrot Over Stick

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my wonderful supporters on the internet. <3 Wonderful, thirsty, THIRSTY supporters.

As the scent of wolf draws closer, Shiro can taste the fear in the back of his throat.

He needs to struggle.  Run.  Escape.  He _knows_ this.  But as the smell overwhelms him, Shiro’s instincts refuse to let him move beyond putting one reluctant foot in front of the other.

He wants so much to reclaim his facilities: he’s worked so hard to fight the instinctive drawbacks of his biology; in places where most rabbits would run, Shiro stands his ground.  He won’t let himself be taken advantage of because of his species.

At least, that was what he had always told himself.  But refusing to allow yourself to be bullied, as it turns out, is much different than being dragged into a palace by one of the most powerful noble families in the country.

Murmurs follow in the wake of his bare footsteps, and Shiro’s face begins to burn as humiliation joins the terror.  Dressed as he is in next to nothing, sheer silks and jewelry that barely cover him at all, he doesn’t even have clothes to hide behind.

And ahead of it all, the lioness of the Griffin family, pulling Shiro along by his leash as if she notices nothing at all.

The closer they get to the throne room, the harder Shiro shakes.  The scent of predator drowns him now, suffocating.  His ears lay flat against his skull, eyes wide as he struggles fruitlessly against the collar around his neck.

But the doors to the throne room open, and he stumbles through them, on display for the royal family of Marmora.

Shiro barely hears the Griffin Duchess’s speech; he already knows that he’s an “engagement gift,” a euphemistic term for a body to practice on.  He doesn’t care why they find this necessary, or what brought them to this point.

He just wants to get away.

But they pass him off like a piece of meat.  His ears continue to lay flat as the crowd murmurs its appreciation.

Shiro’s physique, unusually muscular and toned for a rabbit, does him no services here.  The collar around Shiro’s neck jerks, and he stumbles forward.

And meets the piercing violet gaze of his new master.

The young man watches him almost lazily, criticism blatant in his expression.  Though he looks almost completely human, black wolf’s ears poke out from thick black hair that waves softly to his shoulders, and Shiro catches the white gleam of a fang from behind a pair of lips set in a sharp-angled face.

Handsome, Shiro thinks distantly.  Almost beautiful.  Or would be, if Shiro weren’t so terrified.

“Thank you for your tribute,” the young prince says to the lioness, though Shiro doesn’t miss the tension in his voice.  “Have him taken to…”  He glances over at another woman, also on a throne—presumably his mother, the queen—and she nods her affirmation.  “To my room.”

“Highness,” a servant acknowledges, accepting the leash from the Duchess with a bow.

And then Shiro finds himself dragged off again, choking at the tug once more.

By the time Shiro regains his wherewithal to speak, they’re nearly there; the servant only needs to ignore his pleas for a few moments.

And then Shiro is alone in the royal bedroom, leash bound to the headboard to await his fate.

But he’s alone, at least.  And oh, how others tend to underestimate people like him.

He gets to work on the rope.

These nobles, he thinks irritably, are far too clever for their own good.  They’ve used multiple ropes, so even after the first one around his wrist is severed, more remain.

Shiro has, of course, gotten down to the last ripe when he hears voices outside the door.

“I don’t _want_ to marry him, mother,” snaps a rough young voice.  “So why do I have to accept his engagement gift?”

“We’ve already been over this.”  The female voice that responds is tight and imperious.  “We need this alliance.”

“But—”

“No.  If you don’t want to bed the rabbit, I don’t care—”

“I didn’t say _that._ ”

“That’s what I thought.  Keep him for your marriage if you must, but we can’t break off this engagement.”

Shiro redoubles his efforts, teeth catching in the last rope, yanking furiously with his eyes on the window—”

The rope snaps right as the door swings open.

“Hey!”

Shiro bolts for the window, but a painful jerk around his neck stops him in his tracks, and he yanks back, gasping.  He’d forgotten about the leash!  Before he can try to pull free, however, something heavy slams into his back, arms latching around Shiro’s waist and hauling him to the bed.

Shiro freezes on instinct as the scent overtakes him, staring up in quivering fear at the wolf staring impassively down at him.

They watch each other for a few moments that feel like an eternity, Shiro still as the grave.

“Good,” the prince says, pulling away as all aggression seems to vanish.  “Stay there.  If you go missing, my mom will kill me.”

Shiro doesn’t think he could move if Keith had threatened him.

The prince huffs, pushing himself up off the bed and kneeling to pick up a plate from the floor.  Had he been so fast, setting it down before pouncing on Shiro?  Either way, the prince holds it out, and when Shiro blinks at it, he sees…

Carrots?

“My name is Keith.”  The prince sets the plate down on the bed.  “I figured you probably hadn’t eaten recently.”

Shiro’s eyes flick to the plate.  Though it’s hardly a meal—he’s not sure why so many people are so convinced rabbits like carrots—he appreciates the thought.

“Shiro,” he says cautiously, creeping forward to take a carrot from the plate, nibbling at it delicately.  “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No,” Keith says, frank and unoffended.  “I’m going to bed you, but I won’t be cruel.  No matter what people might say.”

Shiro’s heard stories of the ferocity of wolves, and he prays what Keith says is true.  He finishes the carrot nervously, then chews on the second and third as he collects his nerves enough to speak.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“You will.”  Keith shrugs, still frank and matter-of-fact, and Shiro’s stomach drops.

He looks down at the final carrot, half-eaten.

“Finish it,” Keith orders.  “You’ll feel better soon.”

With a nervous swallow, Shiro obeys.  Keith makes his way over to sit next to him, leaning in, eyes shining with a naked hunger.

“Do you feel it?” he murmurs, placing a hand on Shiro’s thigh.

And as a thrill of arousal floods through him, Shiro does.

“You—!” Shiro gasps as the drugs pound through his system, a familiar warmth pooling in his abdomen and dropping downward.  He knows this sensation, knows what they’ve done.

“They said rabbits go into heat at the slightest provocation.”  The hand slides upwards, cupping Shiro’s swelling cock through the thin silk covering it.  His traitorous hips jerk forward at the contact, and he bites his lip, ears twitching upright despite himself.  Keith leans forward, burying his nose into Shiro’s neck and inhaling.  “I guess it’s true.”

“I…”  But words fail him as Keith’s scent envelops him, something wild and eager and feral.  “That’s—”

He lifts his hands to catch Keith’s shoulders, but his instincts won’t let him push away.   _No_ , he wants to cry, even as his body pleads _yes._

His back thumps against the mattress, knocking the breath out of his lungs.  Keith’s weight settles on Shiro’s hips, hands catching his wrists and holding him down.  Shiro finds himself trapped by Keith’s gaze, those dazzlingly purple eyes.

And then Keith kisses him.

Shiro knows he should struggle against it, shove Keith away, fight him off, but Keith grants him no quarter.  He licks into Shiro’s mouth, filthy in a way that he’s never felt before.  Is this the wolf, or is it just Keith?

Shiro shivers underneath him, going slack, allowing Keith to do what he wishes.

And so Keith does.

“Beautiful,” Keith breathes, sliding his hands up Shiro’s thighs, nudging them apart and settling between them.  “God, you’re so gorgeous.  I hate that they got this so right.”

“What?” Shiro pants, struggling to come to his senses, almost overwhelmed with the need for Keith to kiss him again.

Curse this heat.

“Don’t worry about it.”  Keith strips Shiro of his upper “clothing” with single-minded efficiency, running hands down his chest, squeezing greedily at his pecs.  “I can help with that.”

And then he divers back in, kissing Shiro with an increased ferocity.  Shiro whines, distantly realizing that he’s kissing back, and grinds forward into the oppressive weight above him.  Keith’s fingers easily strip the last of the clothing from Shiro: a loincloth that Shiro distantly realizes he’s absolutely ruined by soaking through.

Keith nudges Shiro’s thighs wider, taking in the sight between them completely unapologetically, ears pricked forward in interest.

“Wow,” he breathes, reaching forward to press a finger up against Shiro’s entrance, between his balls and his ass, which immediately soaks the intrusion.  “When they said rabbits could breed with anyone, I didn’t believe them, but…”  He slips the finger inside fully, clear from his wondrous expression that he looks forward to making that a reality.  “And so tight…  Has no one ever…?”

It takes only one look at Shiro’s blushing face to answer that question.

Keith grins wolfishly, sharp canines gleaming in the light.

“Then I’ll be the first.”

He thrusts the finger all the way in, then adds another, rumbling with pleasure.  Shiro cries out, hips unable to decide whether they should thrust forward or pull away.  His body _demands_ that he submit, that he spread his legs and open himself and offer it for Keith’s merciless use.

And so Shiro obeys.

“That’s it.”  Keith grips Shiro’s thighs, lifting them up and out, bracing them with his shoulders.  Shiro lifts his fists and buries them in the sheets, turning to hide his face in the pillow.

Keith continues to thrust his fingers into Shiro, stroking with a skill similar to how Shiro usually touches himself.  But there’s something rougher there, more demanding, and Shiro can only shake as every cell within him strains in eagerness.

“Please,” he finally manages, and he’s not sure if he’s begging for Keith to stop or begging for more.

“If that’s what you want.”

Apparently, Keith is deciding for him.

The fingers withdraw, and Shiro gasps, eyes flying open.  Keith has decided _this?_  No—why—he can’t—

Shiro’s gaze finally manages to focus on Keith, who has stripped himself of his shirt and is now working on his pants.  They slide down off his hips…

_Oh._

Keith’s cock, flushed and hard, bobs between his legs, and Shiro swallows at the sight.  For someone so small, Shiro distantly wonders if it will fit.

He hopes he feels every inch.

Twisting free of his trousers, Keith lunges forward again, gripping Shiro’s wrists and pressing him into the bed.  He bares his teeth, and for a moment, the thought of how dangerous they are, what Keith could do to Shiro, consumes him.

The fear only serves to heighten the arousal.

Satisfied that Shiro doesn’t plan on moving, Keith releases his wrists, reaching down to guide himself to Shiro’s entrance.

He thrusts decisively, and Shiro throws his head back to scream.

The cock stretches him open so wide that Shiro fears he might break, but the heat urges him onward, coaxes him to open for Keith.

Shiro barely has time to adjust to the width inside him before Keith pulls back and plunges in again, lips meeting Shiro’s in a filthy kiss.

Shiro holds on for dear life, kissing back as much as he can, though he quickly finds himself consumed by Keith.

The length inside him begins to swell, and Shiro realizes distantly that this is the infamous knot.  They aren’t tied, not yet, but it’s enough that Shiro can feel every movement, relish in being unforgivably stretched with each thrust as Keith increases his speed, beginning to pound into Shiro harder and harder with each passing moment.  The girth presses up against every bit of Shiro imaginable, and he can do nothing but let out another scream.

“Fuck!” Keith growls at the cry, then sinks his fangs into the flesh where Shiro’s neck meets his shoulder.

The pain is nearly too much for Shiro, dragging him closer to pleasure, and he thrusts his hips up as he goes under.

The two of them fall into a frenzied rhythm, Keith driving deep and Shiro pulling him deeper.  Their lips meet and pull away, the instinctive, animal _need_ burning within Shiro screaming to be used, to be bred.

And, amidst it all, Keith’s relentless thrusting brings Shiro closer to the edge.

Distantly, Shiro can feel himself soaking the sheets between them, an obscene and filthy show of how thoroughly he’s capitulated to this assault.  He tightens around the huge, foreign sensation, wanting to feel every remaining inch.

“Like that,” Keith pants raggedly through sloppy kisses.  “Show me how much you want it.”  His hands slide down Shiro’s back, gripping his ass, reaching up to tweak the small, tufted tail.

And Shiro—Shiro reaches down, hooking his hands behind his own thighs, underneath his knees, and pulls them up and out.  Arching desperately, Shiro opens himself up to be used without mercy.

“ _Please!_ ” is all he can beg as Keith drives him closer, gripping Shiro’s white hair and yanking on it possessively.  The heat within him has left him near-speechless, reduced almost to a mindless animal.

Keith grinds forward at the plea, one last long, slow drag up into Shiro, and all of existence shatters as the best orgasm of Shiro’s life rips through him.

As he screams his pleasure, Keith’s knot swells within him, stretching Shiro even further, pressing up against all the right places to prolong his pleasure.  A liquid warmth floods Shiro and doesn’t stop, and distantly he realizes that Keith has made good on his promise to breed Shiro, and he’s done a damned good job of it.

Shiro whimpers as he comes down from his orgasm, even as Keith’s seed continues to fill him relentlessly, hot and filthy and darkly satisfying.  Keith’s hips stutter a few times more, the knot tugging on Shiro’s entrance, and then he groans, flopping down onto Shiro, the weight pressing up against Shiro’s swelling stomach.

“Wow,” he pants, even as Shiro still could find no words.

This doesn’t seem to bother Keith, however.  Instead, he busies himself with lazily kissing Shiro, who distantly lets him, even kissing back a little as his mind slowly begins to pick up the pieces of what Keith has left him with.  The tie hasn’t gone down; in fact, every time he thinks he might be able to focus, another rush of come from Keith fills him, leaving him writhing and gasping with aftershocks.  It’s only after what feels like hours—though are probably no more than several, maybe a dozen, minutes—that Shiro manages to pull himself back into some semblance of coherence.

“Wow,” he repeats, blinking slowly, and Keith laughs as he noses underneath his chin.

Keith pulls free with a groan, rolling off, and Shiro cries out again, though this time weakly, as the cock tugs out of his abused hole.  Though he feels some of Keith’s seed spill out, a quick glance downward shows that he has nothing to worry about, if his concern is loss.

“Wow,” Keith breathes again, reaching out to run a finger down Shiro’s stomach.  Shiro shivers at the touch, at the sight—he’s not quite sure.  He looks six months pregnant with Keith’s pups already, the heavy weight of his release settling within Shiro.

He wonders how long it will be before it takes, or if it has already.  He wonders about his coming days, swelling with the prince’s whelps, a toy for his pleasure, night after night after—

“I wish I could stay with you,” Keith murmurs, hand still stroking Shiro’s belly, and Shiro snaps back into the present.

“What?  Oh.”  It only takes a few moments more for Shiro to remember why he’s here.  “You’re… engaged.”  Why does the thought disappoint him like this?

Keith makes a face, turning to stare up at the ceiling.  “Only as long as we both can’t help it.  He doesn’t like me, either.  We’re trying to figure out some way to get out of it without making our families mad.”  He pauses, then turns on his side, watching Shiro with a hunger he doesn’t bother to hide.

Shiro bites his lip and shivers.

“Whatever happens, though, no way I’m giving you up.”  He traces a finger down his chest, and the contact reignites the spark between Shiro’s legs.  “That was amazing.”

Shiro whines softly, screwing his eyes shut, and he feels Keith shift beside him in interest.

“That’s right.  The heat still hasn’t gone away, has it?  The doctors say it’ll last at least a week.”

A _week._  A week of being stirred into desperation at the slightest touch, of filthy thoughts of being filled and used and mounted and bred over and over again without reprieve.  He groans, curling in on himself.

But a pair of lips touches his shoulder, and Shiro knows his body won’t let him mope for long.

“I’d better take care of my newest pet, huh?”  A slight tug on the leash, and Shiro feels the reminder around his neck.  It should leave him afraid, but another wave of need rolls over him, nearly driving him to madness.

With another groan, his eyes snap open, and he fumbles to push himself up.  Ignoring the noise of surprise from Keith, he rolls over, onto his stomach, then levers himself onto his knees, ass thrusting up into the air.

“Please,” he begs into the silence, presenting himself, thighs spread wide.

A heartbeat of uncertainty, and then Keith is scrambling up himself.

“Fuck,” he pants, hands scrambling for Shiro’s hips.  “Fuck, you’re so—you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”  He grips tightly as Shiro thrusts back demandingly.  “I’ve never had a bitch like you before—you’re amazing.”  He sloppily kisses the spot above Shiro’s tail, easily sliding the come and slick from between Shiro’s legs up to his ass, telegraphing exactly where he’s going to thrust in next.  Shiro’s hole is ready in next to no time at all.

And when Keith mounts him properly, breaching his virgin hole with a swift, merciless plunge, Shiro can’t do anything but throw his head back and scream his pleasure to the sky.


End file.
